


Melting Snow

by xHaruka17x



Series: SPN Dean Bingo [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Dean & Cas Bond, Dean & Michael Bond, Depiction of Violence, Dragon Dean, Dragon Dean looks like Drogon from GoT, Dragon Sam, Healer Castiel, King Azazel, King Cain, M/M, Magic, Mention of blood, Minor Character Death, Rider Gadreel, Rider Michael, Rider Raul, Shifter Dean, Wars, Weapon of War, Wounds, Yup GoT Fragments, dragon adam, old world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23481307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHaruka17x/pseuds/xHaruka17x
Summary: When Dean is wounded during a war, as a weapon of war, kindness was not what he had been expecting to find as he fell to his snow-covered death.SPN Dean Bingo Challenge EntrySquare Filled: Winter
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: SPN Dean Bingo [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1428706
Comments: 10
Kudos: 139





	Melting Snow

**Author's Note:**

> A very huge thank you to Diminuel for the amazing art work!!!!  
> Check out her page! http://diminuel.tumblr.com/

  
  
Dean unleashed an onslaught of flames. The scent of burnt flesh and the screams of the soldiers rang in his ears as he flew over them. He flapped his massive leathery wings as he aimed at the hopeful rival army struggling to overcome the soldiers Dean belonged with, and ignited them. Dean roared as he took to the skies over the battlefield. His brother Sam was taking care of the far left of the enemy soldiers, making them meet a wall of Dragon fire.  
  
Dean’s nostrils flared as the scent of ashes, burning humans, death, and decay was potent in the middle of the raging war. He had bonded with his rider, Michael, for the last several years. The man had trained him and praised him while teaching him how to use his abilities to destroy, and how to wield his magical form to win battles for their King as a powerful weapon of war. It filled Dean with pride. Michael had rode Dean into many wars, annihilating their enemies and filling them with fear and fire.  
  
  


Dean’s kind, Dragons, were rare, and yet the very few Kings and Queens that could have them in their midst controlled and ruled with the power and strength they brought with them. Dean and Sam had hatched together. They had been magically fueled with shifting abilities, which ensured that they were able to hide in plain sight as ‘humans’, while their true enormous, monstrous forms stayed protected.

Dean’s bond with Michael was strong, built on wrath, a thirst for bloodshed, and a hunger for praise and pride. With the fear they instilled in everyone around them, the respect they commanded came easily. Michael was viewed as the commander that wielded the most powerful weapon that ever existed, which was Dean. In return, Dean was praised and rewarded constantly for the destruction he left in his wake.

This war, however, _this battle_ , was different. Something in the wind, in the realm’s field of magical energy, felt significant, not like the other battles. Their King, Cain, had been preparing for this war against King Azazel for many moons. Dean may have been a beast, but he wasn’t a mindless thing. He could feel it in every fiber of his being that something was _off_.

Dean was the eldest of three Dragons. Sam had hatched second, and their brother Adam had been last. King Cain had sent Adam and his rider, Raul, some time ago towards the enemy’s lands in the south, and they had never returned. Dean had asked questions, and all he had been told was that Adam and Raul had perished. Dean just couldn’t understand how this could have happened. His mind wandered as he roared and consumed the troops below him in his flames. He flew through them and landed heavily as he roared into the sky at the fleeing soldiers.

Then he heard Sam shrieking in pain. He spun around, his tail leveling daring enemy soldiers. Some large wooden wagons with a ballista type of weapon mounted upon them surrounded Sam. Dean watched in horror as he realized there were five around his brother that fired a bolt-like spear, tearing down his brother, who screeched in pain as he burned half of them down.

_NO!_

Dean took to the skies and pivoted toward the weapons. Michael was screaming at him on his back to pull back from his position, but Dean wouldn’t listen. They had killed Sam! They had to die. He lit them and barreled through the wooden wagons, fury burning bright in his huge reptilian eyes as he destroyed them. He even sank his teeth into three soldiers as he went.

In his fury, he didn’t see the other small fleet of soldiers aiming two of the vast bolts at him until they hit him. Dean cried out as one went through his left wing, and as he turned, the second hit Michael. It was a direct hit, knocking his rider right off his back, and the man he had been bonded to was now an empty shell in seconds, falling lifeless. Dean’s mind was now painfully blank and empty of their bond. The sudden silence was deafening and he turned to face the soldiers. He saw that Sam was somehow still _alive_ , and destroying everything around him with his fire. He was hurt badly, but was still fighting, which prompted Dean to do the same.

Dean had no idea how much time had passed as he drowned everything in flames, when three more vast spears hit him. In his pain-filled, shrieking cries, he saw Sam fly away, and Dean couldn’t follow. More spears were being fired at him, and he needed to get away and heal. It took all of his strength to fly away quickly and climb higher into the clouds towards the north to flee.

Michael was dead, but Sam was alive, and he would hold that as a win. He had no idea how far he flew from the battlefield, but he could no longer hear it, nor smell it. The winds were crisp, and frost tingled on his limbs as he started to lower himself from the clouds. The scent of snow and pines surrounded him. He started to fly lower and lower as exhaustion and pain numbed the whole of him. He was gravely wounded and wasn’t sure if he would survive, but if he died, he wouldn’t let King Azazel have a chance to collect his body. Dean’s vision started to blur as his body started to simply drop instead of fly, his wings now too weak. His body swimming with a coursing pain, Dean fell like a heap straight into the cover of the pine forest and into a bed of snow as he blacked out.

**######**

The first thing he felt as his consciousness started to return was the pain in his left side. Dean knew better than to make a sound, despite being back in his human form to protect his beast. He could still smell others; humans were near. He listened intently, and breathed a small sigh of relief as he realized he was alone. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and his slight dizzy spell quickly subsided as he took in his surroundings. He was in a small room, laid out on a too-small bed that had his feet hanging over the edge. His wounds were all dressed in clean bandages, and he could smell as well as feel some sort of healing salve, most likely from willow or wisteria bark. He arched a brow, wondering where exactly he was, as the bright sun of the day shone in from the window to his left. It was snowing. He noticed a small banner that ran across the bare wall. It boasted four curled trees, two at each side, with ancient runes in an arch at the top and at the bottom, while the center held a symbol Dean was sure he had seen before. It was an Old Gods symbol, a reminder of the ones that his King, Cain, held high disdain for over those that worshiped anyone but him. The symbol was an elaborate and beautiful Triskelion. As Dean looked around his minimal surroundings, he found the Triskelion symbol etched into the four corners of the wooden bed he was laying in.  
  
_“We don’t know what he is, Castiel! It’s dangerous to have this southerner here!”_  
  
_“He is wounded!"_  
  
_“We don’t want to be dragged into that war! Many of the villagers said they saw a monster fall!”_  
  
Dean could hear a hushed argument taking place just outside the slightly ajar wooden door to his room. While the room showed signs of this being an old establishment, it was incredibly clean and…warm. The Dragon briefly wondered if the symbols and runes had anything to do with that. 

__Dean felt he was well enough. His wounds had rapidly healed, which was one of his best gifts as a Dragon. He sat up, baring most of himself as he pushed off the fur blankets. The bed creaked beneath him, and then the door of the room was pushed open to reveal two individuals._ _

__Dean locked eyes with impossibly bright and mesmerizing sky blue ones. Something coursed through him, and the immediate pull made his beast within stir with curiosity of the stranger._ _

__The blue eyes went wide as a crimson blush spread across the beautiful man’s cheeks. Dean eyed the dark, unruly, short hair, and the plump lips that spread into a shy smile as the blue eyes focused above his waist._ _

__“You are awake!” the man with blue eyes greeted as he came towards him, only to be stopped by the other man who had walked in with him._ _

__“Which blood magic creature are you?” The other man was short and stocky with a beard, and suspicious, yet knowledgeable, brown eyes carefully watched him._ _

__“Crowley!” The one with blue eyes hissed, as he pulled his arm from his grasp._ _

__"Castiel, he is of blood magic. He reeks of it. We need to be careful. If he is one of their weapons, they will search for him and want him back," Crowley chastised._ _

__Castiel was the name of the one with blue eyes. Dean took in both of their scents, familiarizing himself with them, and one was damn delectable. Dean’s dark green eyes turned shades lighter as his reptilian side took in the notes of pine and jasmine beneath the scent of warm, slightly sweaty skin, and he knew it all came from Castiel. There was something not quite entirely human about him. There were hints of something that made the magic in Dean hum._ _

____

____

"He's right. I am Dean, a Dragon. They will come for me until King Azazel is dealt with. If not them, then the King’s own goons," Dean stated as he studied ‘Crowley’, who watched him just as curiously. However, he was quite obviously guarded. Dean found that he, too, expelled a hint of magic close to that of Castiel’s.

“My name is Castiel. I am the Healer here. You were hurt quite badly.” Castiel came and sat in the wooden chair next to the bed, which he had obviously occupied before Dean had awakened. There was a small table next to it that held fresh bandages, as well as some of the salve Dean had smelled on himself. There was also a bowl of clean water.

“The wounds on your left arm and torso-” The Healer abruptly stopped speaking as Dean lifted his arm and easily removed the slightly stained bandages to reveal fully healed skin, only now showing red scars. He did the same with his torso, and Castiel’s wide eyes watched him in awe.

“Blood magic,” Crowley growled.

Dean turned his gaze towards him, deliberately letting his Dragon eyes flash back and forth, enjoying the clench in the sturdy man’s jaw.

“Stop that.”

Dean was surprised that the clucking rebuttal was directed at him from the pretty Healer. Castiel was looking at him, a bit disappointed, and he had clearly realized that Dean very much enjoyed instilling wariness, if not actual fear, into people. Dean arched a brow at him, and there was the blush on those full cheeks once again. It was incredibly endearing, and despite himself, Dean found himself smirking.

Crowley huffed and turned on his heels, leaving them alone.

They stayed silent for a moment, and Dean found himself observing the Healer as he seemed to fidget in place. He was quite a beautiful human, with his dark hair and light skin. Those eyes…they held a flicker of magic in them, and it was making the Dragon increasingly more curious.

“How long have I been here?” Dean asked, as he tried to take inventory of his still healing wounds. His left leg was prickling, meaning his healing abilities were still working to heal whatever massive wounds he had suffered there. He pulled off the blankets to look at all of himself, and saw Castiel look away from him. Nudity had never bothered Dean, yet he still couldn't figure out why humans were so embarrassed by it.

“Just two nights. I’ve never seen anyone, or anything, heal at such a rapid pace, blood magic or not,” Castiel stated.

“Is that the reason you took me in? Despite the threat I clearly pose to your Keep, wherever this is, you wanted to study me while not knowing quite what I was?” Dean asked, a bit amused with the Healer.

“You are in Winter Peak,” Castiel informed him, as his eyes landed on Dean’s left leg. He was completely captivated, as Dean’s body was fully reconstructing all of the damage. His tendons, muscles, veins, skin…everything was knitting itself together. It was a slow process because of the damage, but being able to see it happen was extremely wondrous.

Dean let him look on as he decided to lay back. If he was allowed to stay here as he fully healed, he would do just that and rest. Being asleep always sped up the recovery process, and while he was very much intrigued by the beautiful Healer Castiel, there was a war still raging to the south, and Dean had to get back.

A deep and foreign feeling bloomed inside of him as Castiel looked up at him with a small, yet welcoming and genuine, smile.

“Rest, Dean. I promise you are safe,” Castiel assured him, as he held his hands just above the healing, gaping wounds of his left leg.

Dean found himself nodding as he once again felt that pulse in his veins. The healing helped to rejuvenate his system and even took away the pain, numbing it to a comfortable tingling. Dean watched the open and bright happiness his response evoked in Castiel, and he vowed then that he wouldn’t let the war reach the Winter Peak Keep.

**######**

The next time Dean awoke, the brightness outside was now a pitch black darkness as soft snow slowly fell in a non-stop showering display. A candle was lit in the small torch the far wall held, giving the room a slight orange glow. The Dragon stretched, and felt his muscles and limbs welcome the pull of his movements.

“Good evening, Dean. Are you hungry?” Castiel asked quietly, as he peeked in from the cracked open wooden door.

“Castiel.” Dean nodded his hello. “I’m famished, actually.” He truly was.

Castiel came into the room, holding a large bowl, and carefully handed it over to Dean. The Dragon found the contents to be a delicious smelling stew that was filled with meats and vegetables. Dean eagerly started in on his supper as Castiel sat in the chair and watched him with a small smile.

“I’m glad you like it. It’s the only thing I can cook properly.” The Healer laughed at his own shortcomings, and Dean smiled as he licked his lips, removing the last bits of the hearty meal.

“It’s delicious.”

“Thank you.”

“You know what I am, but you still haven’t told me what you are,” Dean said, as he finished the bowl. As he regarded the pretty man once more, he found those blue eyes twinkling with hues of gold.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked that you are able to feel the magic within me-”

“Crowley, too,” Dean quickly added, which made Castiel nod in confirmation.

“Crowley is my cousin. We were both born and raised here, and pull our magic from here. Our ancestors built this place. I’m sure you’ve noticed the runes and Triskelion.”

“I have. I can honestly say I have never been around anyone that practiced the faith of the Old Gods. I’ve only seen these in books in the Maesters Athenaeum that King Cain has.”

“These symbols, these runes, are to bring the energy to heal. They are for protection, and to relieve any suffering,” Castiel instructed, as Dean eyed the small banner that boldly showed those emblems.

“So you and Crowley are...?” Dean pressed, a bit eager to understand.

“Well, it depends on who you ask. Some refer to our ancestors as followers of a goddess. Others think of us as earth creatures such as nymphs, since our gifts, our magic, mainly comes from our sacred tree.”

Dean was smiling as he listened, and watched Castiel softly explain to him his story. There was something so soothing and calming about being around the Healer. He placated Dean’s beast in a way that was a bit foreign, and Dean frowned as he tried to understand its meaning.

“Dean? Are you alright?” Castiel called out to him carefully as he moved closer toward him, inching to the edge of the chair.

“I’m not quite sure,” he stated honestly. He didn’t feel wrong, nor frustrated or irritated as he normally did. He always felt restless, needing to do something in order to get that calm that he was now somehow feeling, without having-

Dean’s eyes went wide as he realized something, and he looked over at Castiel.

“Dean?” The Healer seemed worried, and looked over Dean’s form to try and understand his sudden discomfort. It was a confirmation for the Dragon once more.

“I feel rewarded.”

The statement made Castiel’s eyes narrow, as if he were studying him. “May I ask-and please forgive me if I am overstepping my bounds-yet you stated before that you are a weapon,” he started.

“Yes. My rider, Michael, was my bonded human. He was the one that praised me and rewarded me when I destroyed our opponents and our enemies,” Dean replied. He suddenly felt so odd discussing Michael. The human’s presence was a large void, and while he hated the silence, Dean didn’t feel as scared as he had when the bond had been severed.

Castiel took a moment to think, and then he frowned. “Dean, were you always praised and rewarded only after you brought blood and fire to those that stood against your King?” Dean nodded. “Never for something…you’ve never used your gifts to build instead of destroy?”

The Dragon frowned. “No.” He clenched his jaw as he studied the Healer.

Dean wasn’t completely sure what was happening. The conversation was making him feel different about himself, and he couldn’t understand what it was…

“Dean, I hope you believe me when I tell you this. You are not merely a war weapon. You may have been created for that purpose, but you are good, and you have the ability to build instead of destroy,” Castiel said as he looked Dean directly in the eyes. A warmth, like a hug, wrapped itself around Dean, and his beast suddenly wanted to spread his wings wide and roar into the skies that this delicate, yet powerful Healer- perhaps truly a tree nymph -believed in him. In the mere days that they had known each other, the Healer had shown him nothing but kindness and friendship without demanding anything from him.

“H-how are you so sure?” the Dragon questioned gently.

Castiel smiled at him. It was a beautiful, genuinely stunning sight that made Dean’s heart race.

“You could have- and still can at any given moment -destroy me and my people. You could have chosen to torch our community, and rendered our Keep into nothing but ruin with a few puffs of your Dragon fire. But not once have you been hostile. Curious, yes, but never malicious,” Castiel reminded him, and as Dean’s eyes locked with his, Castiel placed a soft, cool hand on the Dragon’s cheek. “Blood Magic doesn’t make you evil. The core of you, the core of your beast, is good and powerful.”

Dean had no idea what to say, or how to respond. He had always been a weapon, a ‘sword’ of his rider Michael, meant to stir fear in their enemies and bring them to ashes for standing against King Cain. Dean had always followed the orders and the teachings all taught mainly by Michael. Dean had always sought out the praises and rewards his obedience and cooperation had brought him.

“Does the wrath of war appeal to you? Do you enjoy the destruction you leave in your wake? Please understand, I am NOT trying to belittle you, or make you feel something you are not. You are a Dragon, a creature with gifts that most could only ever dream of. Being powerful and filling your enemies with fear must be something that fills you with self-worth. I don’t think that’s wrong, truly. But I must ask, do you enjoy death?”

They stayed silent for many moments as the candle on the far wall flickered, twisting the shadows on the walls along with their features.

No. Dean hated the stench of the dying. He hated when he would notice the forms of children left in the ashes that his flames dealt out. He was scared of death- not his own, but the ones he cared about, like his brother kin Sam. Yet war had always been what he was made for; what he had been raised and hatched from his shell for. He had never even fathomed some other kind of life for himself. He was a warrior and a hunter, a Dragon. Blood and fire.

Yet…

“Tomorrow, I would like to bring you to the private courtyard. I’d like for you to witness the tree of life.” Castiel smirked. “I know, it’s a cliche name, but its beauty and energy is like none other. I hope you will take its meaning with you, before you leave us.”

Dean looked over at him and took Castiel’s gentle hand in his. His ears perked up at the small gasp from the Healer. “How do you know I am leaving tomorrow?” The Dragon frowned. The answer had been there between them since they had met, yet Dean hadn’t realized it. He had not known that a true bond formed simply and without force. They had bonded when they had first locked eyes.

Castiel smiled sadly as he kept his eyes on their joined hands. “You have a war to go back to. Only now, you know you have something else waiting for you.”

**######**

It was midday when Castiel finally came to see Dean. The Dragon had been feeling quite worried when he hadn’t seen the Healer in the morning, and instead had been left to the hospitality of Crowley, who had brought him breakfast as he continued to regard him warily. When he had asked after Castiel, Crowley had simply informed him that the Healer had important business to attend to that he had been neglecting since Dean’s arrival. The sturdy man hadn’t given the Dragon a chance to reply. Instead, he had left him to his breakfast, and Dean’s laundered and mended breaches laid at the foot of the bed.

Dean had just fastened the cord around his waist when Castiel appeared at the door.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Castiel. I believe you left out something in your introduction.” Dean found himself in a teasing mood. He had been able to _feel_ the Healer’s annoyance and boredom all morning long.

“Oh!” Castiel gasped as he realized. “Yes. I, um, I am the Lord of Winter Peak. However, I prefer to be spoken of simply as Castiel or Healer if one truly must use titles.”

Dean watched him, and yes, ‘Lord’ didn’t quite fit the beautiful man that had somehow welcomed Dean into his home; who had shown him a kindness he had never truly known from any stranger; and who had formed a bond that filled Dean with a soothing warmth he had never imagined could exist.

His bond with Michael had been forged in the brotherhood of being two pieces of a working weapon…but with this extremely new and vibrant bond with the Healer, Dean found himself conflicted about leaving. Yet the urgency of it called to him. Until the war was over, Castiel and Winter Peak could very well become casualties, and Dean would give his life to keep that from happening. For the first time, he found himself _wanting_ to protect instead of being told to do so, and it was…liberating.

“Well ‘Lord’ of Winter Peak, I believe you mentioned wanting to show me your precious tree,” Dean teased while Castiel looked him over, as if to make sure the Dragon was fully healed.

“If we are going by official titles, may I ask yours?” Castiel teased in return, as they exited the room and started down a long hall towards the northern part of the keep.

“The Black Dragon is the only title I hold,” Dean replied.

“Hmm, I see. Well, Dean the Dragon sounds much better,” Castiel said.

As they stepped outside and into a vast courtyard, Dean’s eyes landed on the stunning tree at its center.

Its bark was pale and its leaves a blood red, yet its beauty and energy hit him like a wave. Dean closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as the scent of tranquility and life coursed through him. He hadn’t even touched the tree, and yet it was reaching out to him, healing him still as it filled him with a breath of fresh air, and he smiled.

Everything felt, smelled and hummed of Castiel inside of him, and he reached out to grasp the Healer’s hand in his. “Amazing,” Dean whispered.

“It is,” Castiel agreed, and as Dean opened his eyes and looked at Castiel, he found the Healer had been watching him the whole time. The sky blue eyes looked as though they were filled with a thunderstorm. Dean found himself moving of his own accord. He took Castiel’s face gently in his hands and kissed him deeply.

The kiss consumed them as they inhaled and took in each other’s aromas, and the need between them turned into rushed and wanton kisses. Castiel was now flush against him, and Dean hummed as he claimed his lover’s mouth, mapping out every crevice. It pulled a needy moan from the Healer as Dean’s left hand curled itself in his unruly dark hair.

“I will return to you,” Dean promised, and swore it to himself. He had found something beyond what he had always believed was his destiny, to be a mere war weapon. Now, he knew there was life- a humble and happy way of life -that awaited him, all because of a man who had decided to show him kindness.

Castiel nodded, and watched him take to the sky while his true form ripped out of him. He roared into the afternoon sun as he headed south.

**### 1 Year Later ###**

“My Lord, this note came for you!” A young boy came running towards Castiel.

“Thank you, Jack.” The child beamed, and ran away after he handed him the note from the bird.

Castiel unrolled the tiny parchment and gasped. He grabbed hold of his garments and took off at a run toward the clearing, ignoring Crowley’s calls after him to know where the bloody hell he was going off to.

The Healer ran through the high snow, his cheeks pink from the cold, yet he couldn’t keep the smile from his lips as he pushed through the trees and hurried as fast as he could to reach the clearing. He was almost out of breath when he reached it, and let himself take in the marvelous mythical creature and its mesmerizing beauty of animalistic power.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel greeted, as he looked up at his love who had fought to come back to him, just as he had promised. His heart soared, and he ran towards the Dragon, who roared in glee at the sight of his Healer.

**End**


End file.
